Serendipity
by simplyshelbs16
Summary: A total Sherlolly AU in which they keep meeting at different points in their lives, but every time is a beautiful adventure.
1. Innocence

He was nine years old when he first met Molly Hooper; she was seven. She was a wild beauty if ever he saw one, running around barefoot through the open field of daisies with nothing but a sundress and her chestnut hair in braided pigtails, a flower crown atop her head.

"Hey, why aren't you wearing any shoes?" he asked.

"Because the grass feels good between my toes!" she answered enthusiastically. "Try it!" Reluctantly, Sherlock slipped off his shoes and socks, scrunching his toes in the green blades.

"S'not so bad," he remarked.

"The flowers tickle too," she smiled. "What's your name?"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, at your service, madam," he bowed with a flourish, eliciting a soft giggle from her lips.

"Nice to meet you, William," Molly extended her hand. "I'm Margaret Elizabeth Hooper, but you can call me Molly."

"Do you wanna play pirates?" Sherlock asked.

"Sure! What's your pirate name?" she questioned.

"Yellowbeard," he answered. "What's yours?"

"Make one up for me," she insisted.

"Wild beauty," was his reply, making her blush. As Yellowbeard, he attempted to go after her treasure.

"If you want my treasure, then you must do a dare," she told him. "And I dare you to kiss me." Sherlock's eyes widened much to her amusement. He leaned in further to her already puckered lips, but Molly ran as he tried.

"Hey, that's not fair," he pouted.

"I'm a pirate; I'm not supposed to be fair," she teased. He couldn't argue with that.

* * *

The following weekend, they met up again to play pirates. This time they were working together, running from an imagined group of redcoats. All was fine until Molly had tripped over a tree root and caught herself with her left wrist, twisting it at a bad angle. Her tears came immediately and Sherlock rushed over to comfort her.

"Come on, my house is closer, my mum can fix you right up," he assured her. "Here, mum always says a kiss can make it all better." Without any hesitations, he kissed her wrist before helping her up and taking her to his mother.

* * *

"Okay, this time, I'm going to be Princess Molly who rescues her true love, the pirate, Yellowbeard!" she exclaimed.

"Pirates don't belong with princesses," Sherlock said, his arms crossed.

"Who says? Pirates deserve to be loved too," Molly told him. This made him smile.

* * *

For a year, they were thick as thieves, playing pirates in the field that separated their houses every weekend, up until the day she disappeared. He was sad to not find her waiting for him like usual, but he did find a treasure map drawn in her hand, held down by a heavy rock. Sherlock followed it to the willow tree that they used to sit under where an 'X' made of pebbles marked the spot. He dug through the dirt to find a small chest, and inside was a flower crown of daisies that his mum helped him press and he's kept it ever since.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** You'll find out why Molly disappeared in the next chapter, when they meet again as teenagers.


	2. Beneath the Stars

He was eighteen years old when she came back to that very field on the night they both had their school formals. Sherlock had refused to attend and went out to the field with his violin to compose in the late evening. The sound of the river rushing into a small lake through the trees at the field's edge helped calm his mind. A pair of headlights distracted him for a moment, wondering who it was. From where he stood, he saw a young woman, about sixteen, dressed in a strapless, A-line, aubergine chiffon dress with a sweetheart neckline step out. He watched curiously as she tugged off her shoes and threw them into the car.

She looked up toward the field, her chocolate brown eyes, puffy from crying, looked into his cerulean ones. Molly knew she could never forget his ever-changing eyes and those unruly black curls.

"You're still here," she laughed in disbelief. "Sorry for the intrusion; I got into this fight with my boyfriend, Jim, at formal. Well, ex-boyfriend now. I stole his car." Molly continued to laugh through her tears.

"You're not intruding," he told her, setting his violin back in its case and closing the gap between them. "I'm glad you're here." A warm summer breeze blew through their hair. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she paused, "Yellowbeard." Sherlock chuckled at that.

"Molly Hooper…my wild beauty," he remarked with a smile that lit up his eyes. "What?" he asked when she started walking towards the lake in her bare feet. The chignon bun in her hair was pulled out with a quick tug of her hand.

"The water's warm enough," was all she told him. "Unzip me?" Sherlock's eyes blinked wildly at her, but did as she asked. Her dress dropped to the ground, leaving her only in her underthings.

"What are you doing?" he asked, turning his head away like a gentleman whilst she unhooked her bra.

"What? You've never gone skinny dipping before?" she questioned. "Well, go on, get undressed. I won't peek, I promise." The sound of water splashing and settling told him it was okay to turn his head now, as she was already relaxing in the water with her eyes closed. He quickly undressed and joined her in the water.

"Why did you leave?" he asked.

"My formal or here?" she asked in return.

"Both," he answered.

"Well, as I said, Jim and I fought; I broke up with him. He cheated on me with Irene something or other and I ran out to the parking lot and drove off," Molly explained. "As for why I left here, it was so sudden. My parents separated; I went with my dad. My mum had been unfaithful with his best friend, no less." It was quiet after that, the nighttime sounds filling the silence. "I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye."

"It's alright," Sherlock told her. "I'm sorry you've been hurt."

"I'm fine, but thank you," she replied, moving closer to him. "I want you to kiss me, William. I haven't stopped thinking about you." Sherlock leaned his head down slowly, pausing just as they were a breath away and pressed his lips against hers tenderly. He felt one of her hands go into his hair and the other resting against his cheek, her thumb stroking his prominent cheekbone. He wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace. He moaned as he felt her tongue slip in between his lips, tangling with his deliciously. Their kiss was broken moments later, but he sprinkled her face with his affections, having always wanted to show her how much he loved her.

"How long can you stay?" he inquired, his breath heavy.

"I've still got a bit before I have to be home," she told him.

"Molly, I—"

"Don't. Not yet; it's not the right time," she said. "I know what you're going to say; I know I would say it back, but it would be too hard." Sherlock nodded in understanding. He gasped as he felt her lips travel over his shoulders and chest. She trailed them up his neck and whispered in his ear, "Just for tonight, let's pretend we can be together." Sherlock pressed his lips to her neck, his name a sigh of pleasure from her mouth. They were in love; have been for a very long time. Even if she wouldn't allow them to say the words, they both knew. That was the night they made love for the very first time.

* * *

Sherlock walked her back to the car, their hair still damp.

"Will I ever see you again?" he asked.

"Someday," she answered with a smile. "We may be star-crossed now, but I know we have a future together."

"Molly?"

"Yes?"

"I hope you get everything you want; I want you to be happy," he told her.

"Someday," she repeated before closing the car door and driving away. His heart ached for her already.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I know it probably seems a bit fast (I know someone will think so), but it felt to be the right time. When do y'all think they'll see each other again?


	3. Uni

It was a rainy autumn morning and a nineteen year old Molly Hooper with glasses perched on her nose, sat in the café down the street from the university. She was writing in her notebook, sometimes doodling, when a warm cup of chai was set at her table.

"Oh, I didn't order another," she told the server.

"No, but he did," the girl told her, pointing at an unmistakable man in a Belstaff coat who smiled at her.

"Get over here, Holmes," Molly laughed. Sherlock wasted no time and sat in the booth across from her.

"Fancy seeing you here, Miss Hooper," he told her, his tone dripping with charm. "May I ask what brings you to London?"

"I'm doing a semester at the university here," she explained. "Do you attend here?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," he answered with a grin. "Your major?"

"Forensic pathology," Molly told him. "And yours?"

"Chemistry," he replied.

"Oh, I love chemistry!" she exclaimed. "It seems we have more in common than we thought, William." Sherlock wasn't about to tell her he preferred to go by his middle name now, as he still loved how she said his given name. She would eventually begin to call him Sherlock when she learned of his preference. "You know, there's actually this experiment I've been working on; maybe you could help?"

"I'd be more than happy to, Molly," Sherlock smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It was the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. Maybe this was the right time? They'd be spending an entire semester together, but would it be enough?

* * *

They had some classes together and always met up at each other's dorms to walk to them together. They would spend some mornings at the café and evenings in one another's dorms depending on who's roommates didn't mind being sexiled for the night. Of course, there were nights they just watched films and fell asleep in each other's arms.

Christmas rolled around and Sherlock was going home for the holidays. He had a gift for Molly and planned to give it to her before leaving. As he approached her dorm, he heard her crying.

"Molly?" he called out with worry.

"Oh, Sherlock, hey, sorry," she wiped her tears away with frustration.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She was silent. "You can tell me anything, honeybee."

"I have nowhere to go for the holidays," her voice was small. "My dad passed away last year and my mum wants nothing to do with me. Did you know she started a brand new family? Refuses to acknowledge I'm her daughter."

"I'm so sorry, Molly," he told her. "Why don't you come spend the holidays with me and my family? I know they'd be thrilled to see you again. Well, my parents; Mycroft is a bit of a stick in the mud."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," she sniffed.

"Nonsense; you're always welcome there. Come on, I'll help you pack your bag," he offered, giving her a smile. A small smile of her own began to form on her lips.

* * *

"Molly dear, it's been an age!" Mrs. Holmes exclaimed. "Come in, come in! You two will catch your death out there."

"Miss Hooper," Mycroft nodded from the kitchen table, an uncharacteristic genuine smile on his face.

"What did I tell you?" Sherlock whispered in her ear. "You're always welcome here."

The sound of Frank Sinatra's _Mistletoe and Holly_ drifted through the cozy home that smelled of poinsettias, fresh pine and baked goods. A crackling fire in the sitting room beckoned for Molly to warm up beside it. After Sherlock pressed a kiss in her hair, and insisted he'd take care of her bag, she left to get warm.

"Do my eyes deceive me? Is that Margaret Hooper?" Mr. Holmes asked from his armchair.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes," Molly laughed.

"It's lovely to see you again, dear," he told her.

"You, as well," she smiled.

* * *

Christmas Eve was upon them and Molly couldn't sleep. She had crept downstairs to take a walk in the snow when she found Sherlock with two cups of tea and a small platter of ginger nuts.

"Did you know I'd be up?" she asked, gesturing to the second cup.

"Hm? No, I drink two cups in one sitting usually," he joked. "Ginger nut?"

"Sure, thanks," she told him. Molly took a sip of tea and a bit from her biscuit.

"Where were you going to go?" he asked. "Surely, you're not dressed like that for bed."

"I was going to take a walk to the field," she told him. "Why? Want to come with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he smiled.

They made it to the field, the crisp snow crunching beneath their feet. Molly had convinced him—well, pulled him down with her—to make snow angels. He warmed her up with his lips, kissing every inch of her face. When they returned to the house, he had her stay put in the sitting room whilst he retrieved something from his bedroom.

"You still have it!" she exclaimed with glee. There, in his hands, was the small treasure chest.

"Open it," he encouraged. Molly did as he said, and inside was her old flower crown, pressed beautifully, beside a small, wrapped gift.

"It's not Christmas yet," she teased.

"Well, I won't tell anybody if you open it early," he chuckled. She took the gift in her hand and carefully unwrapped it. Sherlock picked up the flower crown and placed it atop her head, making her giggle. Pulling back the wrapping paper, a pretty pocket edition of A Christmas Carol was revealed. She was in awe of it. He knew she loved to read and that Dickens was her favourite author.

"Sherlock, this is so sweet of you," she teared up. "I love it." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"You are very welcome, darling," he replied.

"I want you to open yours; don't worry, I won't tell," she laughed. With the flower crown still balanced on her head, she picked up her gift for him from beneath the tree and placed it in his hands. He unwrapped the paper and lifted the lid of the box, revealing a hand-knit oxford blue scarf. It was clear she had made it herself.

"Molly, I—thank you so much. It's perfect," Sherlock told her.

"I hope so; I'm not sure if the length is right, but—" she stopped when she saw that he had put it on and it fit perfectly.

"See? It fits perfectly," he smiled. Little did she know, Sherlock would wear that scarf always, as it would become a signature piece of his outfit for crime-solving.

* * *

On their last night of the semester together, Molly suggested they watch The Princess Bride. Sherlock had been skeptical of it at first. He ended up loving the story of the pirate and the princess, reminiscing with her about the time they played a game in that field very similar to the movie's plot.

"See? Pirates do belong with princesses," she teased.

"I suppose they do," Sherlock spoke softly. He pressed his lips to hers gently, savoring the taste and feel of her. She reciprocated immediately, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth playfully.

"Pirates deserve to be loved too," Molly whispered to him. Hell, it probably wasn't the right time, but she didn't want to hold back anymore. _Sod it_ , she thought. "I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you too, Molly," he replied, moving down to nibble on her ear, trailing his lips down her neck. "So very much." She laughed and scrunched up her nose when he kissed the tip of it. "Is it the right time?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I thought you should hear it. We may never get another chance." Tears threatened to spill over her eyes.

"Don't think like that, sweetheart," he said. "We'll get another chance; I know we will." This made her tears fall. He swiped them off of her cheeks and kissed her forehead. "We will see each other again, Molly Hooper. I promise."

He held her in his arms all night, unable to succumb to sleep. The hours were spent memorizing her in his mind palace; her breathing, the smell of her hair and all that is Molly, the feel of her skin and the sound of her heartbeat. She was his and he was hers, always. There would be a day when they could be happy together for the rest of their lives…someday.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Only two more chapters left! What did y'all like about this chapter?


	4. Their Time Is Now

Twelve years later, at thirty one years old, Molly Hooper started her first day as the head pathologist at St. Bart's. Her predecessor had retired (much to Sherlock's relief). Mike Stamford had assured her that the consulting detective, whose name she did not yet know, could be a bit of git at times, but said he would work well with her. The first murder victim came in later that day, followed by Detective Inspector Lestrade.

"Well, hello there," Greg smiled. "You're the new pathologist, then?"

"That's me; youngest one they've had here," she beamed with pride. "Will the, uh, consulting detective be joining us? I've been a bit nervous about meeting him and—" The doors burst open, Sherlock Holmes swept into the morgue, his coat billowing behind him dramatically.

"Thank God that man has retired," he said. "I hope this new one will actually be competent or I will—" his rant ceased, the sight of Molly Hooper stopping him in his tracks.

"I should have known," she smiled brightly. "I assume we'll be working very closely together, then, Mister Holmes."

"Yes, I believe so, Doctor Hooper," he grinned.

"So, uh, you two know each other?" Greg asked.

"We go way back," Molly told him.

"Well, then, uh, I'll leave the two of you to it," Greg replied before leaving the room.

"What in the world is a consulting detective?" she laughed. "Like a private detective?"

"Of sorts; I consult the police when they are out of their depth…which is almost always," he smirked.

"You still wear the scarf I made you," Molly pointed out.

"Of course; why wouldn't I?" he told her.

"I was beginning to think we'd never meet again," she admitted.

"I told you that we would see each other again," Sherlock said. "I promised, remember?"

"I do. This is it, isn't it?" Molly asked.

"Yes; I do believe it is…that is, if you're not otherwise engaged," his voice was laced with worry.

"There's never been anyone else; I went on the odd date here and there that Meena insisted I go on, but they weren't you," Molly explained. "I've been waiting a very long time for this; we both have."

"I think our waiting is over," he told her, their gloved hands interlacing. "Shall I assist you in your autopsy?"

"I would like that very much," she replied.

* * *

 _3 months later_

"Ah, Molly, there you are. Thank you for the coffee," he told her. "Molly, this is Doctor John Watson. He's looking for a flatmate, just as I am."

"Nice to meet you, Doctor Watson," she smiled.

"Likewise. But, uh, well, we hardly know each other," John began. "I suppose I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"He's got some odd habits, but I'm sure you two will get on well," Molly assured him. "Well, I must get back to the morgue." John furrowed his eyebrows at the exchange once she left.

"So are you two, uh, together?" he asked.

"Mm, nope; I am married to my work," Sherlock lied. This was to protect her from the dangers of his chosen career. He and Molly had agreed to keep things just between them for the time being, her flat becoming his favourite bolthole. He would act as if he didn't care in public and she would play off of him accordingly.

 _4 months later_

"Any luck then?" Molly asked, entering the lab.

"Yes, actually," he told her, still focused on the microscope.

"Oh, Jim," her voice conveyed false happiness. "Sherlock, you remember when I mentioned Jim, right? He works in IT." _Ah, so this was the Jim who's car she had stolen_ , he remembered. Of course, later on, it was found out that he was the notorious criminal, James Moriarty and Molly had only said that she should have seen that coming.

The only other time they had been separated was when Moriarty gave Sherlock no choice but to fake his death for two years. Molly was overlooked because of Sherlock's superb acting of not caring and her perfect reactions to said nonchalance. He had been able to protect her successfully, and she had helped him fake his death. Mycroft kept her updated whenever he knew of Sherlock's whereabouts and the two became close during this time, developing a real brother and sister type of relationship. Of course, after his return to the living, he had asked Molly to move in with him and she accepted. They danced all night at John and Mary's wedding reception which was nearly turned into a crime scene. They even survived Sherlock's near exile after disposing of Magnussen. John and Mary had appointed the two of them as Rosie's godparents, along with Mrs. Hudson and Greg.

* * *

Snow fell in fluffy white blankets. The air was crisp and cold outside, but the crackling fire in the sitting room kept them warm. Christmas Eve had come around quickly and it had been months since the Norbury issue. He, Molly, John, Rosie and Mary were over at his parents' home for the holidays, as well as Mycroft. And, as if it were tradition, neither Molly or Sherlock could sleep.

"Hey you," she smiled when he padded his way into the kitchen, dressed in his Belstaff and scarf. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Not really, no," he admitted. "I had more important matters on my mind."

"Like what?" she asked, taking a sip of her tea, her eyes still reading the book in her hand; the very book he gifted her with all those years ago.

"Like taking another walk to the field where we met to have another adventure," he told her.

"Sounds perfect," she agreed.

* * *

They made snow angels again like the last Christmas they spent together during uni. Their gloved fingers were interlaced as they lay beside each other.

"Molly?" Sherlock said her name to get her attention. "I know it's not quite Christmas yet, but I'd like to give you your gift now."

"It seems to be our tradition," she smiled. He sat up and motioned for her to stand in front of where he was now kneeling on one knee. Molly gasped as she realized what was happening, fighting the urge to just say yes before he could utter a word. She wanted to hear what he had to say.

"You are an angel who came out of nowhere on a day I was feeling lonely. We were only children then, but I knew immediately how special our friendship was. You're my best friend, Molly, and we've had some amazing adventures together. We have been through an outrageous amount of separations, but made the most of the time we had with one another. So, having said that, I wondered if you would be up for one more adventure…Margaret Elizabeth Hooper, I have been in love with you since I first laid eyes on you. My wild beauty, will you marry me?" he asked, eyes full of love and adoration for her, a gorgeous antique ring held between his fingers.

"Yes," she laughed out of happiness, tears of joy streaming down her face. "Of course I'll marry you, Sherlock!" Molly fell to her knees and cradled his face in her hands, snogging him tenderly. Their kiss was broken several moments later, their noses and foreheads touching.

"I love you so much," he whispered, slipping the beautiful antique ring onto her finger.

"And I, you," she whispered back, nuzzling her nose against his. "You're the love of my life."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I rewrote this chapter like ten times and I'm finally satisfied with it. I kept arguing as to whether I should include the quick recap of the show's canon events to fit my AU because of story progress, but decided it was necessary to avoid as many plot holes as possible. Plus, I kept Mary alive hehe! There will be an epilogue!


	5. Epilogue

Only a few months after they were married, Sherlock and Molly had decided to try for a baby. More months passed until, finally, Molly found out she was carrying a little Holmes. She wasn't sure if Sherlock had been able to deduce it, but decided to attempt to surprise him.

"Molly, I think we should definitely continue our lovemaking right now," he told her when he came home the next morning from a case, kissing her firmly on the lips. _Okay, so maybe he hasn't deduced it yet_ , she smiled to herself.

"I think you should at least have a cup of coffee first," she told him, handing him a new mug she had bought for him that said 'good morning, handsome.' He smirked at her before sitting down beside her to drink his coffee; black, two sugars, just the way he likes it.

Molly watched as his brows furrowed. Sherlock noticed lettering at the bottom of the cup as he became close to finishing it. He noticed his wife biting her lip in anticipation. Once it was all drank, the message at the bottom was revealed: 'you're going to be a daddy.' She stood then and Sherlock moved to the floor onto his knees, his hands caressing her waist.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"I am," she smiled, smoothing her fingers through his curls. She continued to do so as he pressed kisses to her belly, nuzzling it with his nose every now and then, murmuring I love yous against her skin. They spent years jumping in and out of each other's lives, but now they were in marital bliss with a baby on the way; a family of their own, finally. Could it be fate? Destiny? Perhaps, it was nothing but serendipity.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** sorry it took so long for such a short epilogue...this past week has been crazy lol! I hope y'all enjoyed my story!


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